


One Founding Father Who Fancied the Doctor and One Who Didn't

by fiftysevenacademics (rapiddescent)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: American Revolution, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Flirting, M/M, Time Travel, Time Travelling Founding Fathers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 17:52:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6293983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rapiddescent/pseuds/fiftysevenacademics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DOCTOR: Jefferson isn't a girl's name, or her name either. Jefferson Adams Hamilton... River?</p><p>RIVER: Surnames of three of America's founding fathers. </p><p>DOCTOR: Lovely fellas, two of them fancied me.</p><p>(The Impossible Astronaut)</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Founding Father Who Fancied the Doctor and One Who Didn't

"Brr!" cried the Doctor, slamming the door and ducking back inside the TARDIS. He pulled his long brown trenchcoat from a nearby hook and slithered into it with a single, sinewy movement. Jack followed the cue and threw on his own long, blue military-grade wool coat before joining the Doctor, who opened the door onto a frozen white expanse that gleamed under a full moon and twinkled in the light of billions of stars. They were in a small clearing surrounded by skeletal trees, dusted with the same snow that crunched beneath their feet. Jack shivered and turned up his collar, a cloud of breath hanging in front of his face. 

The Doctor pushed his glasses back up on his nose and ran a hand through his hair, as if fluffing it back into its usual cockscomb might trap more air to keep him warm. Or maybe his hand moved of its own accord to capture some body heat the instant before it dissipated into the frigid night, because immediately after, the Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and fiddled with the settings until the blue light at the tip glowed steadily and it emitted a low, reassuring hum. He wrapped his palms around it and sighed with satisfaction before slipping it into his coat pocket.

"What's that for, Doctor?" Jack asked, each word framed by a white puff of air.

"I set it to warm," the Doctor explained. 

Jack pushed his hand into the Doctor's pocket and felt it bathed in warmth immediately. He covered the Doctor's hand with his own, briefly and, perhaps, unnecessarily, before shifting it to the sonic screwdriver, which he grasped with an audible "Aaaaah" of relief. The Doctor stepped aside fast enough to draw Jack's hand out of the pocket.

"Keep your hands to yourself, Captain Harkness," he warned with exaggerated, probably even feigned shock.

"Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying, Doctor," Jack winked.

The Doctor shook his head and they both looked toward some lights through the trees. They walked briskly toward voices, the thin scent of food cooking, and a single fiddle playing a jig that drifted up the slope. 

"You don't have any idea where we are, do you, Doctor."

"Of course I do. We're on Earth. At night. In the winter. Northern Hemisphere, most likely." He gave a haughty sniff as he spoke. 

"Glad I'm with a Time Lord," Jack laughed. "I'd never figure that out on my own. It sure as hell isn't Lignorinium 13, where you said we were headed." 

He felt, rather than saw, the Doctor glare with enough heat to warm his cheek and grinned. If he cared about precise timing, he would only travel using his vortex manipulator. He traveled with the Doctor for the entertainment. 

"And," he mused, "the way those pinstripe pants cradle his ass." 

Not that it was visible through the trenchcoat, of course, but he realized he'd fallen behind a pace just in case. Now he had to step fast to reach the Doctor's side again. They were nearly to the trees now, and just on the other side were cabins, and someone was singing a song to the fiddle's tune.

"Do you recognize the language?" Jack asked.

"It sounds like English."

"Yeah, but not the kind you're used to. Listen carefully."

They paused, allowing sounds to reach their ears and their brains to process them. The Doctor tried to hide his perplexed expression, which amused Jack.

"It's an American accent but not quite the same as mine. It's a bit more British than that. I think we're in America, before it was, really, America. We're in Colonial America, Doctor."

Just then a branch cracked and two forms, both male but one shorter than the other, with raised rifles appeared from seemingly nowhere.

"Stop where you are!" one of them commanded in an aristocratic southern drawl.

"Put your hands in the air and walk slowly forwards," the other ordered.

"It's OK! We're not enemies," said the Doctor as they advanced.

"You're English," the southern voice said warily, readying his gun to fire. The other man did, too, and as they moved , the Doctor and Jack saw that they were wearing the blue and buff uniforms, three-cornered hats, breeches and tall boots of the Continental Army. 

The Doctor reached out and, with his index finger, pushed aside the barrel of the shorter man's rifle. 

"Don't be daft. I'm Gallifreyan. You," he looked sternly at the taller man, "Can put your weapon down, too. I abhor violence."

"State your name and purpose," he barked. 

"If you insist," the Doctor snapped to attention and saluted with two fingers across his brow, followed instantly by Jack. "My friend here is Captain Jack Harkness and I'm the Doctor... Sir!"

Jack struggled to contain laughter as they remained at exaggerated attention. The southerner bristled and moved as if to seize them but his friend stopped him with one arm. 

"Let's talk to them, Laurens. They don't look like they're armed."

"With that attitude, they can't be patriots. They must be spies."

"If they are, they're more valuable alive and without their mouths bashed in by you."

He turned his alert gaze back to Jack and the Doctor.

"I'm Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Hamilton of the Continenal Army."

Jack stifled a squeal and then quickly flashed ten fingers at the Doctor. The Doctor's puzzled face told him he had no idea what Jack meant, so he mouthed, "Ten Dollar bill!" excitedly.

"Huh?" said the Doctor's expression.

"You, Captain Harkness. You wear a coat with military insignia, but none that I have seen before. Is this a new Hessian thing?"

"You could say I'm with the military, but not the Hessians. Has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?"

The Doctor elbowed Jack hard in the ribs and Laurens practically growled as he reached again for his rifle, but Hamilton laughed, "What an interesting gambit, Captain Harkness. I'm not thrown off my guard so easily and, for the record, yes, they have."

Jack could have sworn he saw Hamilton and Laurens exchange a meaningful glance, and got the warm little thrill he always felt when he knew he was playing on home turf.

"And you."

Hamilton's eyes followed the Doctor's contours from the spiky tips of his hair, over his shoulders, lingering for a moment on the pinstripe suit straining ever so slightly across his chest, and down the length of his skinny legs, ending with the red Converse sneakers.

"I can't say I've ever seen anyone dress quite like this, but it suits you well. Very well indeed. You say you're a Doctor? We have some very sick men. Can you help them?"

"That's enough, Hamilton," Laurens pushed between them. "Raise your arms."

The Doctor and Jack lifted their hands above their heads while Laurens searched all of their pockets. When he found the sonic screwdriver he yanked it out so fast an edge caught and tore a small hole in the fabric.

"What is this?" he shouted, holding it toward them and pressing a button. The tip lit up and emitted a buzzing sound. The Doctor snatched it from his hand.

"Put that away before you melt your gun barrels or something. It's not a weapon, if that's what you're asking. It's a simple tool. A screwdriver, if you will."

"It's not like any screwdriver we've ever seen," Laurens answered for both of them, his brown eyes wide. Hamilton gaped at the Doctor in wonderment.

"Gentlemen, you seem to be men of honor, in spite of the fact that I know of no country called Gallifrey. Yet your strange attire, and curiousness in this place at night convinces me you come from far away and are not working for the British. Doctor, can you do anything to help our sick men?"

"Er... um... I'm afraid I'm not that kind of doctor."

"Alex, I've had enough of this. Let's just take these two back to the General. They might be gentlemen, but they can still be traitors."

"What are you doing here?" Hamilton asked forcefully. 

"I might say the same of you, Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton," the Doctor rejoined. "Does your general know you've wandered off in the woods to meet with some possible traitors?"

Hamilton's goatee quivered in a chuckle.

"Admirable effort, Doctor. You'll find it very hard to play that sort of game with me. But because I like your boldness, I'll answer. Laurens and I are on our way home from a party that our general most certainly knew about because he was, unfortunately, too busy to attend."

"Ah a party, yes, we were on our way to the Botaglianspell Party on Lignorinium 13. It only happens once every seventy-five years, but it lasts for six months and it's Jack's kind of party."

Laurens and Hamilton looked at them blankly. 

"Let's cut through the crap, Doctor," Jack interjected. "I know that you are Alexander Hamilton, the first Treasury Secretary of the United States. You are a hero of the Revolution who created our financial system, and I'm honored to meet you."

He extended his hand.

"What? Wait. I am?"

"Yeah, you're on the ten dollar bill-- the ten dollar founding father as they used to say back in the 21st Century. Hey, come to think of it, I'm with two Tens at the moment- and I mean that in at least two different senses, if you know what I mean. Must be my lucky day."

The Doctor groaned. 

"Jack, we never meddle in other people's time streams. You're interfering, and worse, you're flirting."

"Sure, if you say so, Doc," Jack laughed heartily.

"Does this mean we win the war and America survives?" Hamilton asked.

"Yeah."

"How do you know this? Where are you really from? "

"I'm a Time Lord, from a planet far away called Gallifrey. I'm an adventurer who travels through space and time. Jack is a human, an American, like you, but he is from your future."

"Alex, really, let's arrest them. This is madness."

"Now hold on just a minute, John. We know our sun has many planets. Are there not millions and millions of suns in the firmament, each of which may have planets of their own? And could they not be populated by beings who are to us as we are to animals? That screwdriver you held, it can't have been made on Earth. Or, at least, not Earth in 1777. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio- "

"Yes, yes, I've read the play. Yay, Hamlet," Laurens pouted.

Jack grinned and turned to the Doctor.

"You know, I think that party might be right up our new friends' alley, Doctor."

Laurens squirmed and looked awkwardly at his boots. He was probably blushing beneath those freckles, but in the moonlight, Jack couldn't tell for sure. Hamilton, however, was nonplussed.

"I do love a good party, Captain Harkness, but I'm afraid my contributions to the revolution are too valuable to withhold for six months. My guilt would render me a most boring guest. Doctor, will you take me to visit America of the future instead?"

"Right now, Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton, I'd do just about anything to get out of the cold. If I must choose between arrest and judgment before your general, or take you for a spin to the future just to feel my toes again, I'll take the latter. Shall we?" 

He swept his arm in the direction he and Jack had come to indicate the way.

"We need to be home before the General wakes," Laurens fretted.

"If he's really a time traveler, I expect he can get us back before we even left, and if he's not, well, then, obviously we won't go anywhere and will be home in plenty of time, with prisoners to boot. You don't have to come, John. I'll be back before you know it."

The three of them started walking and heard Laurens crunching the snow behind them as he ran to catch up.

"Of course I'm going with you, Alex. As if I would let you wander off with a couple of lunatics all by yourself."

Laurens shouted, “Alex, are you mad?” when he saw the TARDIS, no bigger than the armoire in General Washington’s room. Hamilton stopped dead in his tracks, lips curved in an enigmatic little smile, and shook his head in disbelief.

“We’ve come this far. We might as well see whatever’s inside before we haul these miscreants back to camp,” Hamilton answered.

Jack entered the TARDIS first so he could position himself for the best view when the revolutionaries walked in. He flopped down on a stool near the console and leaned back with his hands behind his head. The Doctor breezed through the door and stood to one side while the flabbergasted soldiers gaped at the sinuous pillars and cavernous, curved walls covered in a regular pattern with round, white lights. They had the impression they floated inside a titanic jellyfish. The time rotor’s green resting light changed to bluish white, and it began to move slightly, as if happy to be in the Doctor’s presence again.

“Well?” he said expectantly.

Laurens’ mouth opened and closed and small, inarticulate sounds escaped. Hamilton, however, read the eagerness on the Doctor’s face and replied, “It appears you await a certain reaction, by which I surmise that you enjoy shocking guests with this closet, or TARDIS, as you call it, of yours. Well, Doctor, you have got the better of me on that account; I am surprised. But I refuse to grant the satisfaction you desire.”

“You have no idea how that sounded to me,” Jack leered, but only Laurens, who stood closest, heard. He was pretty sure he did have an idea how it sounded to Jack, and snapped to his senses.

“I am at a loss for neither word nor wit, as you can see,” Hamilton continued, “and remain solely curious to know if you can deliver on your promise to show me the future.”

The doctor bounded over to the console and pulled a few levers. The time rotor pumped and Hamilton had to cover his startle reflex as the box lifted into the air and spun away on a hideous, rhythmic grinding sound.

As they flew, Hamilton demanded explanations of every flashing light, wheezing gear, and sputtering circuit. The Doctor fired rapid answers that even Jack couldn't understand, but Hamilton appeared to soak in. Laurens sat next to Jack and grumbled, "He doesn't understand a word of that gibberish."

"He sure seems to," Jack observed.

"It's not often he gets a real challenge in the oration department. He's soaking it in, and forming his replies."

Together, they watched Hamilton, and saw his large brown eyes dart about as the Doctor's hands pointed and gesticulated and grabbed at levers and buttons, and his lips moved slightly as if he could no longer contain his own words. He followed the Doctor's monologue with a rapt expression that shifted only once, when he pushed a stray strand of shiny black hair back into his ponytail. When the Doctor paused, Hamilton launched into a detailed exposition on some aspect of what the Doctor had just shown them that neither of them cared enough about to listen to.

Laurens took his own thick, wavy black hair out of its ponytail, smoothed it all down again, and retied the ribbon. When he looked back up again, Hamilton and the Doctor crouched beneath the console together, heads practically touching as the Doctor zapped something with his sonic screwdriver. Laurens tensed and shifted as if to rise, but noticed Jack watching him, and sat back down.

"You don't like that, do you," Jack tilted his head toward Hamilton and the Doctor, examining some intricate wiring cheek to cheek. Laurens didn't reply. "I don't like it either," Jack finished. Laurens nodded.

Hamilton and the Doctor emerged from beneath the console, fully absorbed in a burst of chattering and gesturing that, to Laurens, made them look more like birds than people. 

"Doctor, I must say, I rarely encounter a gentleman with a battalion of language as well-equipped as yours."

"I am a man of peace, Hamilton, and disapprove of your military metaphor. But if by it you mean to say that you are impressed with the way I wield my tongue, then, yes, you are right to be impressed."

Laurens elbowed Jack and whispered, "Hamilton's fishing for compliments, but I think he's met his match."

Hamilton's face clouded but instantly cleared as the Doctor drew up to full height and smoothed his suit. His eyes fixed on the Doctor's floral tie, and traveled slowly up his throat to his mouth.

Jack leaped up and hopped between them, putting one arm around each man, dislodging Hamilton's glazed fixation on the Doctor's tongue.

"Can I just say the Doctor wields a wily tongue but yours, Hamilton, is the one I'd like to get to know better."

The Doctor shook himself free and bumped Jack aside. 

"What did I tell you about flirting, Jack?"

"Who said anything about flirting, Doctor? We're talking about conversation here."

Hamilton, for the first time that evening, blushed, and looked toward Laurens. They locked eyes and Laurens flashed a smile intended to send the message, "Everything's all right, I'm fine with whatever," even though he immediately looked away, rose, and went to look through the window at the stars hurtling by. Hamilton scoffed under his breath, then turned his attention back to the Doctor. 

"I admire the cut and fabric of your suit, Doctor. Perhaps I shall have a similar one made for myself. May I touch it? "

"Please do. It's one of the favorite suits I've worn over my many lifetimes."

Hamilton slid a thumb and forefinger down one lapel, then dragged his palm slowly across the Doctor's chest, ending at the pocket, into which he slipped a finger. 

The Doctor caught his hand and pulled it out. 

"Looking for this?" He pulled the sonic screwdriver out from his trouser pocket. Hamilton's hand fell to his side and he stepped back, crestfallen. 

"You are a remarkable man," he murmured. "I don't think I will meet someone like you ever again."

Jack sighed, and joined Laurens at the window, reassuring him with an arm over his shoulders.

Just then the TARDIS shivered to a halt. They hit the earth roughly and everyone had to hold on. 

The Doctor sprang toward the door and opened it before everyone realized they were motionless.

"Ah yes, here we are, New York! Wall Street. 2015."

They stepped into an alleyway, at the end of which people coursed thickly in both directions. It was a hot, sunny day and the stench of car exhaust filled the air. Hamilton and Laurens immediately choked and covered their noses. 

"It smells a bit different than horse shit and mud, but it's really the same thing-- people traveling as fast as they can to get to wherever they need to be to make the most money," the Doctor said. "That's the essence of New York."

They had come to the main part of the sidewalk and Jack thrust into the crowd, parting a path for their group. They joined the flow and Jack laughed to himself at the way no one even noticed the quaint costumes of his friends.

"This is the heart of the American financial system," Jack explained as they all craned their necks to view the tops of the buildings. "That you created. And in the 21st Century, the American financial system still dominates the world."

"Still?" Hamilton asked incredulously. "We can't even buy boots for our soldiers."

"Look around you. Does this look like a nation that can no longer afford boots for its soldiers?" Jack waved his arm around. "Wall Street pulses with the lifeblood of the world's economy, and America is the richest country in the world."

Hamilton and Laurens turned their heads back and forth to follow the herd, women, men, people of all colors streaming with purpose. Hamilton chattered gaily while the Doctor pointed out parks, buildings, technology. 

"The blacks, are they free? They're walking along with whites like equals," Laurens asked.

"Yes... they are... free... and equal, but..." Jack hesitated, trailing off.

Laurens and Jack followed closely behind, attempting to enjoy the tour, but paying very little attention. When they paused to view a building and the Doctor launched into an elaborate exposition about its architecture to Hamilton, Laurens grunted in disgust and noticed a newspaper machine on the corner. 

"A most ingenious method for selling newspapers! Jack, would you be so kind as to lend me the coin to purchase one?" 

"Ah..er... not sure the coin I have will work on this machine, it's from the future, you see, but..." he dropped a couple of coins in with bated breath and, to his relief, they worked. He opened the window to withdraw a paper, which he handed to Laurens, who flipped through it while Hamilton and the Doctor talked commerce and architecture.

They walked for a long time, turning here and there, until the streets became dirtier, the buildings, shabbier. Men huddled in alcoves and women hurried to get to the next corner. People no longer dressed in elegant wool suits and silk dresses, and clusters of men stopped talking and watched them suspiciously as they passed. 

Laurens noticed that most of them were black and an alarm sounded in his head. 

"Alex, we need to get back to Valley Forge. The General needs us. The revolution needs us. We can't be away for long."

Hamilton stopped, sighed, and clasped the Doctor's shoulder. 

"Laurens is right, my Doctor friend." His hand lingered just a bit too long, and strayed just a bit too far down the Doctor's back as he removed it. "Guide us back to the TARDIS."

They sat quietly on the ride back, each one alone in their thoughts except for Laurens, who read the New York Times. The TARDIS landed in the woods just behind the officers' quarters. The moon had advanced only slightly from its location at their departure. The Doctor opened the TARDIS door.

"I don't suppose there's any way you could write to me, Doctor, but I promise I will write to you whenever I have the chance, and if there's a way my letters can reach you, I will find it," said Hamilton.

"I would be honored to read your letters, and will return here from time to time to pick them up."

Jack shook his head at Laurens and mouthed, "He always thinks he'll visit but never does." Laurens barely noticed. His mind was far away.

Frosty air burst inside with the soldiers' departure and instantly mellowed behind the closing door. Jack and the Doctor stared at it for a moment until the Doctor's giddy voice broke the silence.

"Didja see that, Jack? I think one of America's Founding Fathers fancies me!"

"Don't we all?" Jack thought, sighing, but the Doctor had already moved across the console and was busy twisting dials and pushing buttons.

Outside, Laurens took Hamilton's hand as they picked their way through the crispy snow toward the square stone farmhouse that was the officers' quarters.

"I guess you can relax now that you've seen your legacy. It's the future. It's ordained."

"Not true, John. The future always depends on what we do in the present. I make that future possible because I work hard now. I know now that I need to work harder than ever, or else all those people we saw won't have the good life they have."

Laurens seemed stricken by his words. They had reached the edge of the clearing that held the army camp. Laurens pulled Hamilton back into the shadow of the last row of trees and held him close. 

"You are changing the world, Alex," he whispered, pressing their mouths together.

" _We _are changing the world," Hamilton breathed, kissing Laurens again.__

__Laurens did not reply, but directed them back to the house. Instead of going to the room they shared with the other aides de camp, he lit a candle in the aides' office and readied paper and a pen. He removed the newspaper from his pocket, smoothed it next to the paper, then sat down and immediately began writing words that Hamilton read over his shoulder._ _

__"Slavery cannot be part of our new nation. It is imperative that we create the black battalion immediately," the letter began._ _

__Hamilton curled the end of Lauren's ponytail around his hand, and slowly smoothed it as it released._ _

__"Come to bed. We should sleep. Your letter can wait till morning. It's late and we'll be up with the sun."_ _

__He kissed the nape of Laurens' neck, but Laurens brushed him away. Only then did Hamilton's eyes light on the newspaper left open by the letter, and skim an article near the top of the page._ _

__Police Killings of Blacks: Here Is What the Data Say_ _

__Tamir Rice. Eric Garner. Walter Scott. Michael Brown. Each killing raises a disturbing question: Would any of these people have been killed by police officers if they had been white?..._ _

__The data is unequivocal. Police killings are a race problem: African-Americans are being killed disproportionately and by a wide margin. And police bias may be responsible. But this data does not prove that biased police officers are more likely to shoot blacks in any given encounter...._ _

__Instead, there is another possibility: It is simply that — for reasons that may well include police bias — African-Americans have a very large number of encounters with police officers._ _

__If the major problem is then that African-Americans have so many more encounters with police, we must ask why. Of course, with this as well, police prejudice may be playing a role. After all, police officers decide whom to stop or arrest...._ _

__But this is too large a problem to pin on individual officers._ _

__First, the police are at least in part guided by suspect descriptions. And the descriptions provided by victims already show a large racial gap: Nearly 30 percent of reported offenders were black...._ _

__In fact, the deeper you look, the more it appears that the race problem revealed by the statistics reflects a larger problem: the structure of our society, our laws and policies....._ _

__Hamilton stopped reading as people, faces he had overlooked in his awe of the city's wealth and thrill of conversing with the Doctor, came back on the wave of text. He rubbed Laurens' neck and said thoughtfully, "Blacks walked shoulder to shoulder with whites on Wall Street, but they were less numerous, and when we got to the poor neighborhood, it was mostly black."_ _

__Laurens stared into the candle, not saying a thing._ _

__"John. Are you alright?"_ _

__Laurens turned back to his letter._ _

__"I have so much work to do."_ _

**Author's Note:**

> I know that Eleven is the one who said that line, but we don't know when the founding fathers fancied the Doctor, and since I like writing about Ten the best, I decided it happened when he was Ten.
> 
> New York Times article is here: http://www.nytimes.com/2015/10/18/upshot/police-killings-of-blacks-what-the-data-says.html


End file.
